Page 27 of A Sea of Fate and Starfire

The environment around them changed as well. Most of them gazed up at me from the sea, though some perched on a shore, some sat amongst rocks, some stared through heavy mist. Their faces evolved slowly. On and on and on. Until it stopped.

Stopped on a woman with deep, luminous skin, a wicker basket of flowers on her hip. She studied me, eyes as bright and silver as the sand of the moon.

“Maren of Leihani,” she said, hiking her basket a bit higher. “You’ve made it. You’ve reached the apex of the mountain. The heart of Truth. You may ask me one question.”

The heart of Truth?

My brows tightened. Did that mean whatever I asked, she’d answer truthfully?

I didn’t waste my one question with clarifying. I’m not sure I trusted her anyway, after the assault I’d endured to reach her. My mind sifted through my thoughts, searching for what to ask. The mountain had shown me at least a thousand faces.

My ancestry? The women I’d descended from? Leading all the way back to Theia?

Because I held little doubt that was who gazed at me now. Her dress was clean, soft linen. Pretty but simple. And her hair wasn’t polished and sleek but thick and tameless. Youth lingered in her eyes rather than that smooth, imperial gaze she’d fixed me with in her garden.

But there was no mistaking the height of her cheekbones or the grand curve of her jaw, the way her upper lip bowed in a half-moon or the feminine arch of her hips.

Theia stood before me in a world of misty white.

I transferred my weight between my feet, considering what to say. Like she’d been in her garden, she was in no hurry. I suppose that, blessed with eternal life, I wouldn’t have been either.

My fidgeting feet turned into steps. I paced through mist, turning around to walk back, my stone banging quietly over my chest.

How the stones would kill Thaan?

As if it heard me, the frosty prism glowed softly against my skin.

No.

No, I trusted myself enough to believe I’d figure that out on my own.

Was there another way to recordae?

I scoffed at myself in silence, the question surfacing without my summoning it. Born from something foolish and childish. Perhaps even selfish. Some need to fill a fear I’d never quite been able to acknowledge. Love had promised I could recordae Kye with a life preserved. But that involved a life risked. I wasn’t willing to chance Kye’s life just to bond with him again.

Besides, it didn’t matter whether or not we could recordae. Not if Kye’s life ended centuries before my own. Maybe, in some ways, it was a gift that Love had broken our bond. Cruel, but also kind. A gift that I wouldn’t have to endure that earth-shattering pain once more. That I could lose him, mourn him, and live the rest of my days peacefully. I’d never again endure the torture of my voice shrieking alone in that unending void.

No. I was grateful, even if I was heartbroken, with what Love had given me.

If you return from Perpetuum, it will only be because you’ve made bargains with us all. The Fates. Theia. Myself. Gods who do not care what happens to you or your soul. Gods who will take from you more than they will give. Gods who would use you for their own means. As a message, as a weapon, as a tool.

I glanced over my shoulder at Theia. The goddess hadn’t moved. She watched unblinking, as still as ancient stone.

We’re nothing more than cards in their hands, Leihani. Which card are you?

“What’s your stake in sending us back to the mortal realm?”

The goddess blinked. “Ending Thaan’s life will free thousands—”

“Let me clarify,” I cut in. “What does Theia, goddess of the moon and sea, ruler of Perpetuum, seer and secret-keeper, gain from our success?”

Theia’s jaw firmed. She lifted her chin, tilting her head just slightly, the glow over her cheekbones a stark contrast to the shallow hollow of her cheeks. “The divine tellings of the future would matter little to your mortal soul.”

I raised my chin. “And yet I asked anyway.”

She exhaled tightly, waiting for me to change my mind. When I didn’t, she plucked a silver bloom from her basket, watching its closed petals turn as she rotated it within her fingers. “Thaan of Safiro has amassed the largest Naiad army the world has ever seen. Yet they have no home, no colony, no base. He uses them as invaders, raiding one small siren society at a time.”

I already knew that, and opened my mouth to tell her she was again evading my question, when her luminous eyes flicked to me.